Uncomfortable
by chocolatebearturk
Summary: Britta is uncomfortable alone in the bed. She goes to fetch Jeff from the couch. Companion to Closed-Door Confrontations. britta/jeff.


Uncomfortable, by POTR

Britta let out a despondent sigh, rolling over in bed. She kicked off the coverlet and sprawled her legs out, seeking a cool place to sooth her burning skin. Her hair was bunching under her head, itchy and hot, and her sleep shirt was twisted up underneath her. She straightened out her hair and shirt before she flipped the pillow underneath her cheek and pulled the comforter over her shoulder again, hoping it had cooled down in the time it had been away from her body heat. It hadn't. She groaned.

She was _hot_, she was _tired_, and she was just _not comfortable_.

In the back of her mind, she knew what was causing her discomfort. It was always like this on a night after she and Jeff had a fight. In the beginning, it had been manageable. She could tell herself that she was totally right and totally justified. She could go to bed mad and wake up refreshed, ready to accept his apology or start round two of the fight. (He usually apologized, which was good for the both of them. She didn't know if she'd have enough ammunition for round two and he didn't know if he could take another night of her being angry.)

However, after months—years, even—of being in a relationship with him, she could no longer claim total justification in her actions. In fact… her reasons tonight had been rather petty. She could tell herself that it was his own fault until the cows came home, but the fact was, she missed him and she hadn't had any reason to make him suffer the couch tonight. So what if he'd been his insolent, snarky self? He deserved to sleep in the bed as much as she did.

At long last, Britta sighed and flung back the comforter. She wouldn't get any sleep if she sat here _worrying_ all night. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't know what was coming.

She put her feet on the floor and winced when they met cold wood. She tiptoed across the bedroom, skipping the creaky floor plank with practiced ease. She eased open the door and looked down the hall into the dark living room. She could just barely see Jeff's feet on top of one of the arm rests of the couch. She frowned—hadn't she told him to get rid of those socks?

_No, Britta,_ she told herself. _You're not going to get into another argument with him tonight—especially not over a pair of _socks_!_

She padded down the hallway, thankful of the rug that muffled her footfalls. She wouldn't bother him if he was already asleep—she could suffer alone tonight if he was comfortable where he was. As she drew closer to the couch, fear gripped her. What if he _was_ more comfortable out here? What if he was angry at her for making him take the couch just because he overdid it when he was wheedling her this afternoon? What if he decided he didn't want to marry her anymore?

She swallowed the knot in her throat and told herself not to be ridiculous. It was one little fight. He wouldn't stop loving her just because of one little fight… right?

Now she was at the end of the couch and she hesitated before she walked around. He was lying with his arms crossed, a frown set on his face. His eyes were closed and his legs were bunched up even with his feet hanging over the edge of the couch. Britta couldn't contain a small smile—he was almost too tall for the bed, too. She got down on her knees and crept toward him, careful not to make a sound. After another moment's hesitation, she laid a hand on his arm.

"Jeff? Are you awake?" she whispered softly. He opened bleary eyes at her words.

"I am now," he mumbled, uncrossing his arms to stretch. Britta bit her lip as he slurred, "Wha're you doin' ou' he—ahhhh…" He cut himself off with a yawn before he finished, "here?"

"I… I was just checking on you, I guess," Britta murmured, playing with her fingernails so she wouldn't have to look at him as he rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand. "Do you… do you, um, want to come to bed?" She moved from playing with her fingernails to playing with her engagement ring, wondering how much longer she'd have it to play with. After all, if he'd fallen asleep on the _couch_ when she was having trouble sleeping in the _bed_…

He cleared his throat and she looked up, gasping when she saw his wide-awake smirk. She smacked his arm. "That was mean!" she told him, fighting a smile. He took one of her hands in his and gently kissed her knuckles, which made her decide that fighting the smile was a losing battle. Her mouth curved affectionately. After a moment she murmured, "I love you."

"Love you, too," he said, squeezing her hand. He sat up, groaning a little as stiffness from lying on the couch made itself known. Britta grimaced a little and helped him stand as best she could. Somehow, this ended up with her body pressed close to his as his arms wound around her waist. She frowned for a minute, then finally sighed.

"You planned this, didn't you?" she said drily. A shrug of Jeff's shoulders told her that yes, he had. She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, deciding she may as well roll with it. She leaned in and whispered silkily, "Are you going to come to bed or not?"

The kiss he gave her said that yes, he would.

She smiled.


End file.
